Running

Speed, I am speed, I told myself. My big run was in five minutes, and I needed to psych myself up. A mere 5k, but it decided my fate. I stretched my calves and compulsively retied my Nikes. Two minutes to go. I took off my warm-up jacket and headed to the starting line. Then the race began. I ran. I was flying, soaring through the brisk air. Two miles went by. Then 2 and a half. Then 3. It was crunch time. I did what I always did at the end of a race; sprint. But something else happened first. It was a medium-sized stone, one I hadn't noticed until it was much too late. I was falling, falling, falling. I had blown any chances I may have had. I was a failure. If only I could run.